


Loathing

by Terrific_Lunacy



Series: First encounters in history [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, George is an exasperated dad that should know better than leave his kids alone, Historical Inaccuracy, Jefferson Pov, Jefferson isn't taking politics very seriously I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrific_Lunacy/pseuds/Terrific_Lunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jefferson starts his work as secretary of state. He expects Washington to introduce him to respectable members of the cabinet - and gets Hamilton instead.</p>
<p>
  <em> By God, Washington couldn't be serious with this man. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loathing

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the series, but can be read independently.  
> Pretty sure that's not how they actually met, but I mean, they _could_ have.

 

 

Thomas Jefferson had an agreeable life and he knew it. When he stepped into a room reality curved around him to allow the smoothest path possible.

So he wasn’t all that surprised to find a letter naming him the secretary of state waiting at home. Despite his wishes to stay in Monticello after his stay in France, he accepted graciously, especially since no one got away with refusing Washington.

On the day he took up his new position, he stepped into the president’s office in the Federal Hall and reality started to break.

“Mr. Jefferson, welcome home!” George Washington smiled.

Washington stood in the middle of the room, extending his hand for Jefferson.

At a desk to the side sat an assistant, scribbling furiously on several sheets of papers. Jefferson suppressed a wince at the large stack of paperwork. Hopefully he would be entitled to an assistant of his own, he had no wish to strain his wrist.

“Mr. President,” Jefferson greeted, returning the smile easily and shaking the offered hand.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Washington continued, sounding perfectly sincere in his exhaustion.

“But of course, Sir,” Jefferson assured him. “Am I to meet the rest of the cabinet then?”

Washington sighed. “Not quite all the positions have been filled yet, but we’re working on it.”

“We?”

“Myself and the secretary of the treasury. He arrived before you, you understand.”

“Ah yes, the treasury secretary. You did not disclose his identity in your letter to me. A man with a solid grip on numbers I presume?”

“A man with a fierce grip on just about anything, I assure you,” Washington said with an exasperated fondness.

For some reason, he glanced at the assistant when he said it.

“How come I have never heard of this multitalented man?” Jefferson asked jokingly.

“I’m afraid I have kept him sequestered by my side during the war. Much to his own chagrin.”

Now the president was definitely looking at the assistant, even speaking louder, basically addressing him.

Jefferson mustered the man again. He was young, rather small, his hair in complete disarray and his clothes either too big for him by design or cheap enough to not merit a proper fitting. He was also completely ignoring both of them.

Surely, _surely_ Washington couldn’t possibly mean…

“Mr. Jefferson, might I introduce Alexander Hamilton to you - Hamilton?” Washington called when the man continued to ignore them.

Jefferson stared at the profile of the scrawny man, who now absentmindedly smeared ink all over his cheek. He was a mess.

“My pleasure,” Jefferson said drily.

“Ah, he gets lost in thought easily you see,” Washington chuckled. “Hamilton!”

 At the sharper address, the young man’s shoulders snapped back, spine straight. Definitely military.

“Your Excellency?” he asked, blinking owlishly at both of them, obviously just noticing that he wasn’t alone.

There were dark bruises under his eyes. He had probably skipped several if not all hours of sleep last night. By all accounts he should look exhausted. Instead he jumped to his feet and walked over to Jefferson, practically brimming with energy. Jefferson was instantly on guard.

“Mr. Jefferson! Alexander Hamilton,” he said, shaking Jefferson’s unoffered limp hand with both of his.

Jefferson’s eyebrows rose further.

He hadn’t misjudged; Hamilton was smaller than him and downright tiny next to Washington.

“Secretary,” he nodded, secretly proud that it came out as a statement and not a question.

Hamilton turned away from him, somehow making _him_ feel dismissed, and grabbed a whole stack of papers, which he tried to shove into Washington’s arms.

“Sir I was going over the calculations again and-“

“Maybe later, Hamilton?” Washington said mildly, fending of the flood of papers. “Mr. Jefferson just arrived.”

Hamilton paused. “Yes of course, it means we can finally start working right?”

_Finally start…_ That little shit.

“As you say,” Washington said tiredly, then glanced at Jefferson with something resembling amused mischief. “Maybe I should leave you two to get acquainted? You could explain your financial plan to Mr. Jefferson before the meeting tomorrow.”

Jefferson looked at Washington affronted and took an involuntary step back when Hamilton turned his attention back to him.

He didn’t want to be anywhere near that buzzing ball of energy. He could practically hear the countdown to its explosion.

Washington apparently was perfectly content to leave them alone.

“He _likes_ talking about his financial plan,” the president murmured in his ear as he left the room.

Without Washington, Hamilton had no choice but to fixate on Jefferson and the smaller man took a deep breath, obviously getting ready to talk for a considerable time.

Jefferson could feel a headache starting to bloom in his head. Washington didn’t pay him enough for this.

“Where are you from?” he asked Hamilton instead, hoping to impede the looming tirade.

“Unimportant,” Hamilton answered briskly, evidently not liking the change of subject. He did, however, have just enough social grace to return the question. “I heard you are from Virginia? Like Washington?” It was clearly more of a deflection than actual interest on his part.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Hamilton made. “Must be nice.”

_Must be nice?!_

By God, Washington couldn’t be _serious_ with this man.

“So first of all we need to build a strong central government and for that we need to assume state’s debts to establish a national credit that can compete-…”

Jefferson held up a hand to stop him. “First of all I think, _Alexander_ , we need to discuss it.”

Hamilton made an impatient twitch with the quill he was still clutching in his hand. “I’ve already examined it from all possible approaches, I assure you it’s the only viable option.”

When Thomas Jefferson stepped into a room reality curved around him to allow the smoothest path possible. Confronted with Alexander Hamilton however, reality cracked.

“You insolent bastard, who do you think you are?”

Hamilton stiffened, his eyes momentarily glancing to the ground before snapping back up.

And oh. _Oh_. He could use that.

A slow smile curled his lips. “Unimportant you say?”

Hamilton’s eyes burned into him viciously, but the effect was dimmed by the fact that faint blotches of red appeared on his neck and face. Checkmate.

It was curious though - How did a bastard end up as Washington’s right hand man?

“What is your plan then?” Hamilton finally pressed out, the struggle of not further arguing his point plainly visible.

Delicious. Why, Jefferson could have _fun_ with that.

“I don’t have one, I wasn’t aware I would need to do your job as well.”

“Excuse me?!”

Jefferson made a show of examining his nails. “Or rather, I’m not telling you anything. You will have to wait to hear it like the rest of the cabinet.”

Hamilton was fuming. “I just tried to explain my plans to you and yet you refuse to give anything away before springing it on me at the cabinet meeting without giving me a chance to formulate an adequate defense let alone a proper explanation of my-…”

“You’ll just need to think on the spot then, won’t you?” Jefferson interrupted.

Good God, but that man could _talk,_ when did he breathe?

Hamilton was practically shaking at this point, but miraculously managed to reign himself in. “Well, it’s been a _pleasure_ Jefferson,” he bit out.

_Dropping the honorifics are we?_

Jefferson smiled sharply. “Now there’s something we can agree on Alexander.”

He made to leave, but couldn’t quite stop himself from one last taunt. “Oh and Hamilton? You have ink stains all over your face.”

He sauntered out of the room, quietly laughing to himself as Hamilton furiously rubbed at his cheeks, which only served to smear the ink further.

Maybe the position wouldn’t be so bad after all. Jefferson had always loved to hate something.

 

 

 


End file.
